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He pushed a little farther.
I gripped the comforter, sweat from need breaking out all along my skin.
He bit my ass cheek hard enough to leave a flash of pain.
Duke slowly eased his finger out of me and then he was urging me onto all fours. I heard the unscrewing of a jar and then the dribble of liquid on the small of my back. He set the jar aside and glided his fingers in the oil, smearing it lower between my creases. The crown of his shaft teased my back entrance until he slowly inched forward.
I gasped. It was so much larger than his finger.
“I’ve got you,” he whispered, placing his hand on my mound. His fingers were slick with oil as he toyed my folds open.
“Oh God, Duke,” I moaned.
His finger swirled around the nub between my thighs and that was all it took for me to detonate. I screamed as shockwave after shockwave ripped through my core, all the more powerful because I’d been forced to wait for him.
And while I was in the middle of coming, Duke slid all the way inside me.
I felt him everywhere. He was heat and lust, and it was all consuming. He thrust his fingers inside me while he fucked me and it wasn’t long before I was clenching around him again, coming hard and fast.
“Fuck,” Duke groaned as he orgasmed, pumping himself inside me as he released.
He gently eased out of me and then we both collapsed onto the comforter. My breathing was labored and erratic, and when I inhaled, I smelled the heady mixture of the intoxicating scent we’d made together.
Duke removed the blindfold and tossed it to the ground and then he wrapped his arms around me and dragged me into his embrace. He tangled his legs with mine and he brushed his lips along my shoulder.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Okay?” I turned my head to look at him. “That was…yeah. Better than okay.”
“I didn’t take things too far?”
“No.”
Our lips met in a drugging kiss.
I sighed in his arms, wishing I never had to move again.
Chapter29
After a shower,and wearing a pair of Duke’s basketball shorts, a rogue Blue Angels tank, and my high heels, Duke walked me to my car.
He opened the driver’s side door for me and leaned in to kiss me.
I placed my hand on his bare chest—he hadn’t bothered with a shirt, just a pair of jeans.
God, he looked good. Inked and muscled, and allmine.
“What’s that dopey grin for?” he asked, handing me the slices of wedding cake that were in the aluminum to-go container.
“It’s not a dopey grin,” I protested.
“Trust me. It was dopey.”
“I was just thinking how good you look without a shirt on.”
“Then you should be looking at me with lust-filled eyes, not giving me a dopey grin.” He smiled, obviously teasing me. “I think I know what that dopey grin was all about.”
“What was it about?”
